


Home With You

by svetlainie



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svetlainie/pseuds/svetlainie
Summary: Alek meets the Sharp family but there's only he really wants to spend time with. Fluffy and a wee bit frisky.
Relationships: Aleksander of Hohenberg/Deryn Sharp
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

It had been an exhausting day to say the least. Alek and Deryn had flown in to Glasgow that morning, mercifully sans Volger or Dr. Barlow, and since then Alek had met nearly every single one of Deryn’s aunties, cousins, nieces and nephews. The neverending flow of people was noisier and more jovial than anything he had ever experienced in his childhood. It was quite dark when Mrs. Sharp finally shooed everyone home.

Deryn had also retired early. She was, he expected, anxious to finally get away the prying of her aunties or the nagging of her mother. Alek wasn’t too keen on being alone with Mrs. Sharp just yet; her bright blue eyes were so much like Deryn’s and he desperately wanted to make a good impression. However, Deryn had ruffled his hair as she left the sitting room, lingering a little longer than proper, and the piercing gaze that Mrs. Sharp gave the pair of them was enough to convince him to stay firmly seated in one of the old, weathered armchairs for at least another twenty minutes. Alek dared a small smile and nod to Mrs. Sharp before studiously opening his book, a bit of studying for Dr. Barlow. 

Besides, it was a rare treat to have this kind of leisure in front of a warm fire. Though the house was smaller and much less grand than Konopischt, it reminded him of quiet nights spent with his parents. If he squinted, he could almost imagine that Mrs. Sharp, who was seated in a low chair and embroidering, was...his own mother. The thought, though he knew it was silly, brought that dull ache in his chest, the quiet sadness of his parent’s deaths, up to his throat. Deryn would never get the chance to meet his own parents. He almost laughs, she would have charmed them no doubt, and he swallows the ache with a mouthful of tea.

Eventually even Mrs. Sharp went to bed. She had finished her sewing for the day and she could tell that Alek needed to be left to his thoughts. He was a polite and honourable young man, but she could see the quiet sadness in his eyes because she recognized it in her Deryn. Kindred spirits, the pair of them. She could see the way they look at each other, pick each other up. They’ll need it with the kind of mischief they’re bound to get up to.

Though Deryn had been the first one to leave the sitting room that evening, she hadn’t slept a wink. She and Alek had barely gotten a chance to talk in the chaos of her homecoming. She had hoped he would follow her upstairs where they could have a moment to themselves in the hall or, if her clanker didn’t object to the idea, curl up in her bed just to talk for a squick. Except Alek had not gone to bed yet even though her ma had been asleep for ages. She waited a couple more minutes, until she was dead certain she hadn’t heard his quiet deliberate footsteps on the stairs before pulling on her robe and creeping downstairs herself.  
The daft boy was parked in the same spot she’d left him, an open book going unread in his lap while he swirled the contents of his tea cup over and over. Suddenly he looked like the fifteen year old boy she’d met on the Leviathan, aching with secrets and grief.

“Alek?” she whispered, tiptoeing into the room.

He startled and set his cup down. “Oh, liebe, I didn’t hear you come in.” He turned around to face her and she saw the edges of his sadness melt a squick.  
“I came down to check on you,” she said. “I never heard you come upstairs.”

He frowns at his watch. “I must have lost track of time.” 

He makes a move to stand up but she slides into the wide armchair beside him and picks up the book in his lap.

“Aye, I reckon The Politics of Darwinism in Russia and Eastern Asia is a real page turner.” More quietly she adds, “Are you alright, love?”

He’s quiet for a while. He reaches out to find her hand, clasping it with his. “You have a wonderful family,” he whispers finally.

She’d like to snort and list the various assaults she’s faced today. But instead she just says, “A bit different than yours, aye?” She squeezes his hand.

He laughs softly, sadly. “A bit, I suppose.” A moment passes. “I wish you could have met mine.” 

“Me too. Though I don’t think your granduncle would approve of your trousers-wearing Scottish airman, now would he?

He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and, blisters, she’d like to kiss him “I’m sure you’d be teaching all of court to tie knots in no time.” She chuckles at the idea.  
Then he kisses her, gently, like she’s something precious. He makes her feel like she’s flying with both feet on the ground. She breaks away for a moment. “For what it’s worth, Alek, the aunties can’t get enough of you.”

“Really? I thought making me look at all of those photographs of their dead cats and husbands was some sort of cruel test.”

“Well you passed it, then.” She kisses him this time, and she can feel him smiling. Eventually the kiss deepens, his hand in her hair and the other around her waist while her arms are wrapped around his neck. Barking spiders, she doesn’t want to ever stop kissing him. But she pulls away an inch, forehead pressed to his. Breathless, she mutters, “Keep on like this, clanker, and I suspect the aunties may not adore you as much.”

He somehow puts more distance between them. He clears his throat but his voice is deep and a little rough. Blisters. “Ah, yes, I suppose we should go to bed. Or you to your room and myself to Jaspert’s—”

She cuts him off. “Aye but you’ve got me wide awake now.” Deryn adjusts so that she’s curled up against him now, head on his chest where she can hear his heartbeat. His arm wraps tightly around her, stroking her arm absentmindedly. “Tell me about that book you were reading.”

“Alright, but god's wounds is it boring.”

The next morning Mrs. Sharp is a little alarmed to find neither Alek nor Deryn in their respective beds. She dresses and heads downstairs, hoping to find that they’d simply gotten an early start to their day. Mrs. Sharp rarely gets exactly what she wants. She finds them downstairs alright but they’re squashed into a single wide armchair, arms wrapped tightly around each other, sound asleep. She’s relieved to find them fully clothed with Alek still in the shirt and pants he had on yesterday and, bless him, his tie still wrapped around his neck, though loosened a little. And her girl, his girl too she supposes, is in her pajamas and dressing gown, hair sticking up at odd angles. The more sensible part of her wants to shake them awake but something stops. Lord knows what they get up to in London, but she was young once, and in love with Deryn’s da. Lord knows what they got up to in their day. She’ll let them sleep for now, but she has a nagging feeling that she might me a little noisy making breakfast this morning.


	2. Chapter 2

At the sound of a large crash Deryn jerks awake with a snort and Alek, who’s chest she’d been resting her head on, stirs softly in his sleep. Bright morning light streams into the Sharp’s shabby sitting room. She blinks hard and rubs the sleep from her eyes. Deryn thought she had gone to sleep in her own room but then she remembered tiptoeing downstairs, talking with Alek, reading a book together, kissing Alek, falling asleep in his arms. 

“Alek!” she hisses. “Wake up, daftie!” She could hear her Ma in the kitchen, whistling murderously. There was also no doubt that she had seen them wrapped up together like a pair of eels on her way downstairs. She had thoughts about the pair of them simply traveling together unchaperoned; who knew what was waiting for them past the kitchen door.

“Liebe? What is it?” Alek mumbles, detangling his arms from around her waist and stretching them behind his head. He slowly blinks his eyes, squinting at the sunlight through the windows. 

“We fell asleep in the sitting room!” Deryn replies, shaking his shoulder. He still woke up like a bloody prince, slow and daintily.

At that he sits up straight, checks his watch, and swears. “Surely that can’t be the time! Is your mother awake yet?”

“Aye she’s whistling merrily in the kitchen. She’ll have our hides no doubt.”

Alek rubs his temple. “I think we’ve faced worse together than your mother. Probably best to get it over with.”

“Aye, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a plan, eh?” She runs her fingers through his auburn hair and tugs on a loose curl. Her usually prim prince looks a little rumpled with his wrinkled shirt and loose tie. Alek leans his head into her hand and smiles that soft smile he saves just for her.

“Yes, I suppose we could start with getting dressed.” Alek rubs his neck. “And perhaps Bovril has learned how to massage. Two people to one chair does no wonders for the spine.”

“But, minus the wrath of my mother,” she looks at him and smirks, “it was nice to spend the night with you.” That was bold even for Deryn and she expected the Clanker to blush but he only matches her gaze, eyes blazing with intensity and tenderness.

“Yes,” he says softly, “I imagine that a bed could only improve the situation.” Deryn grabs his hand and grins. Alek’s composure begins to crumble and he turns a bit pink around the ears. He coughs. “Much later in the future...when we’re more, ah, settled and, and we shouldn’t make this a habit—” 

Deryn cuts him off with a kiss, the kind that would shock her aunties, and Alek returns it in earnest. For all his qualms and propriety, Deryn has a way of making him go daft. He brings a hand up to the nape of her neck and she shivers, leaning into his embrace. 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?” Deryn and Alek jump apart. There in the doorway, still in his airman’s slops, stands none other than Jaspert Sharp. 

“Jaspert is that you, you bumrag!” Deryn runs over to him him and Jaspert engulfs her in a bear hug. He shoots daggers at Alek over her shoulder.

“Aye it’s me but I have a few questions— ” Just then Mrs. Sharp walks in from the kitchen.

“Jaspert!” she says. “I didn’t expect you to be home.”

“The Minotaur’s taking a stop in Glasgow,” Jaspert says, “and I decided to stop for a nice home cooked meal when I walk in to find Deryn snogging some lad!” He jerks a   
thumb at Alek, who has stood up and hastily straightened his tie and rumpled collar from the day before.

Mrs. Sharp’s eyes flick between the pair, who are trying hard not to look guilty, and sighs. Both her children are home and she’d like to not spend the time mediating a row between them. “Never mind them; he’s a prince after all,” she says. Alek opens his mouth to correct her; ex-prince he would have said, but Deryn elbows him sharply in the ribs. 

Jaspert remains unconvinced. “I don’t care if he’s the bloody king, but what’s he doing here, Ma?”

“They’re on leave from their assistant job at the Zoological Society,” Mrs. Sharp replies. She shoots a look at Deryn. “Honestly Deryn, don’t you send your brother any letters?”

“The boffin thought it would be best to hold off for discretion purposes, Ma. Didn’t want Dylan Sharp’s name being bandied about on an airship while the war was still on.” Deryn says. “But it’s been over a year now. I guess I just got out of habit. Sorry, Jaspert, I’m a dummkopf.”

“Aye and she’s speaking bloody clanker!” Jaspert snorts.

Mrs. Sharp smacks him with her dish towel. “Well come and eat breakfast and she can tell you all about it. How long are you on leave?”  
“Three days,” Jaspert replies, shooting another suspicious glance at Alek.


	3. Chapter 3

Deryn would describe the atmosphere at the breakfast table as stony, to say the least. While her Ma happily chats away, Jaspert only half listens and insteads spends his time shooting murderous glances towards Alek. Alek keeps his eyes firmly on his plate, his chair a very proper distance from hers even at the crowded table. Though when her hand finds his under the table he doesn’t let go. Deryn makes a show of checking her watch.

“Alright,” she says “Alek and I need to head into town to send a few letters to Dr. Barlow at the Zoo.” She and Alek begin to stand, and Jaspert does as well. Mrs. Sharp’s eyes dart between them.

“Actually,” Mrs. Sharp says, “Deryn I needed your help with some sewing this morning.”

“Ma, I’m not a seamstress I’m an—” Deryn starts.

“An airman, I know, dear, but it’s tricky work and my eyes aren’t what they used to be. Don’t pretend I can’t see that you’ve tailored your own shirts.”

Deryn tugs are her collar. “Ma!”

“Don’t argue with me, Deryn.”

“Alek doesn’t know the way to the post office. What if there’s something urgent from the Zoo,” Deryn continues.

Jaspert jumps in. “I can show him into town,” he offers. “It’ll be nice to see some of the lads.”

Mrs. Sharp smiles. “Excellent. We’ve got it all sorted then,” she says. She’ll admit that needing help with the sewing was a fib, knowing that Jaspert would take the opportunity to spend time alone with Alek and blow off whatever steam he’d been accumulating since arriving home that morning. Alek looks nonplussed, but he’s a good lad, Mrs. Sharp thinks, he’ll be alright. Jaspert just needs to get to know him.

Jaspert heads to the front door and takes his jacket off the hook. “Well come on then, you highness,” he calls. 

Alek and Deryn share one last tender look, but then Deryn claps him on the back in a much more soldierly manner. “Best not to keep the man waiting, your princeliness,” she says.

Alek and Jaspert walk in silence for several minutes and Alek takes this as an opportunity to admire the scenery. The Sharps’ house is outside of metropolitan Glasgow, a sizable cottage with a large field where he assumes Deryn’s Da used to launch balloons, and a couple of trees that she would have climbed in as a girl. It almost makes him smile, if it weren’t for the surly man walking beside him. Jaspert is taller than Deryn, and definitely not as lanky. He looks every bit a man while Alek still feels like a boy playing dress-up. 

“I’m not actually a prince anymore,” Alek says, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“You don’t need to call me ‘your highness.’ I renounced my titles. Please, call me Alek.”

“First of all, I’ll call you what I like,” Jaspert begins, “And secondly, what I’d really like to know is why you were snogging on my sister at such an indecently early hour.”

“Well, I, we…” Alek begins, realizing that no explanation will be sufficient. He remembers times with his tutors, or Volger, or his father’s advisors, all bent on reminding him of his insufficient heritage. He starts over. “That was inappropriate. I apologize.”

Jaspert seems slightly mollified. “Right answer.” Alek offers a shaky smile and Jaspert punches him in the arm in what he supposes is a friendly manner but he worries it’s going to leave a bruise. “Just don’t make a habit of it, aye? It’s not like my sister to be so moony over a lad so you must be special and it won’t do for you to cause a town scandal.” 

Alek grimaces. He is very familiar with scandals, being the product of one. It was part of why he threw that blasted letter from the pope into the ocean, so that he could love Deryn without subjecting her to the court ridicule his mother faced all her life. He slows down and stops to face Jaspert, squaring his shoulders in the perfect air of a prince, only this is more genuine than any royal protocol.

“Jaspert, I know you don’t know me,” he begins solemnly, “but I know Deryn and I would never do anything to hurt her.” He thinks of the raw terror he felt watching the Goliath send lighting skittering over the skin of the Leviathan, knowing that a single leak in the membrane would send Deryn and the rest of the crew up in flames. He can still taste the smell of burnt flesh on his tongue, and feel the shattered glass of the window cut his burnt palms. But then he thinks of the cold wind on the spine, watching the leather scroll case land in the sea with a tiny, meteoric splash. Deryn’s lips on his, only a prelude. “I gave up an empire for her, and I gained so much more,” he tells Jaspert.

Jaspert stares dumbfounded for a moment but then collects himself. “Take it easy, your highness.” Alek opens his mouth to correct him but then shakes his head, realizing that Deryn’s habit of mis-titling him may be hereditary.


	4. Chapter 4

Alek and Jaspert end up staying out much later than intended. After leaving the post office, Jaspert spots one of his old schoolmates who insists that he and his funny clanker friend have a round of drinks at the pub. Alek has never had a round of drinks except for a glass of wine at formal functions and has certainly never been in a pub. He is not sure if he is intrigued or appalled but he gathers his courage for Deryn’s sake, knowing that the mere thought of him among Scotsmen will amuse her to no end. 

It’s not past four o’clock but Deryn is at her wit’s end. Alek should have been back by now and she’s trying not to worry. She’s also trying not to let her mother twist her knickers in a bunch. Too many questions about wedding dates and frilly dresses. Her marrying Alek. The thought is preposterous...isn’t it? At least right now, with barely enough money between the two of them to get to Glasgow and back. But the thought, as much as she tries to hide her blush from her mother, gives her that sharp, happy feeling in her stomach. And she wants Alek and Jaspert to get home already.

Then Deryn hears laughter echoing up the lane and runs out the door. Alek and Jaspert are walking, no, stumbling side by side, arms slung over each other’s shoulders like they were the best of pals. But she doesn’t think on this too long. Instead she runs up to Alek and pulls him into a hug. His movements are sloppy and he reeks of ale. He plants a kiss on her neck that makes her giggle. Suddenly Alek is roughly pulled away by Jaspert, who has him held by the collar.

“What was that for?” He slurs.

“Oh, what was that for?” mocks Jaspert. “We may be chummy now you think you’d still have the decency to mind your manners in the middle of the barking street!” Jaspert appears sober once again. Either he didn’t drink as much as Alek or he simply holds it better.

Alek slumps his head onto Deryn’s shoulder once again. “My sincerest apologies,” he mumbles.

“What did you do to him?” Deryn asks incredulously.

“I ran into my mates and we took him round for a few drinks that’s all. You should have told me he couldn’t hold his liquor”

“Well Ma isn’t going to stand for that! You’ll have to help me get him into bed and we'll tell her he took ill.”  
Alek meanwhile was trying to whisper something in her ear, no doubt something not auntie-approved, but they get lost in the fabric of her jacket. Deryn really hopes he hasn’t just called her Dylan. She shoots Jaspert a murderous glance. He sighs and wraps Alek’s arm around his shoulder and together they walk him up the lane.

Their Ma is waiting for them in the foyer but Deryn hurries Alek up the stairs as Jaspert begins his bluffing. “You daftie,” she mutters to Alek. “I should’ve told you never drink with a Scotsman.”

“I love you Deryn” he mumbles “A great deal.” Even his slurred words can’t hide his posh upbringing.

“I love you too, dummkopf, though not as much as usual.” She hefts him up the last stair and they stumble into her bedroom. She pushes him onto the bed and he collapses into it, already asleep. She takes off his boots and leaves him be for now.

Alek wakes up in the deep blue darkness of some time very late at night. Besides his pounding head, the first thing he notices is the smell. It’s Deryn all around him, like starched linen and sky and whatever she puts in her hair to make it lie flat. Through the moonlight shining through the window he can just make out the shapes of the bedroom and realizes that he’s in Deryn’s room. And on the floor below him is Deryn, sprawled out on a cot, sheets tangled.   
He rubs at his eyes and groans. He can taste every single glass of ale he drank on the back of his tongue. As quietly as he can, he slides out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom, hoping that a splash of cold water will make him feel better.

The cold water revives him somewhat and, noting that he also smells as if he’d been in a stormwalker for weeks, wets a washcloth to wipe down with as well. Upon returning to Deryn’s room he pauses, realizing the impropriety (and plain rudeness) of sleeping in a lady’s bed while she’s camped out on the floor. Turning on his heel he shuffles towards Jaspert’s room but hears the thundering snores within and realizes he’s not keen on sharing a bed with Jaspert either. Chagrined, Alek returns to Deryn’s room. He crouches beside the cot and gently shakes her shoulder. “Deryn?” he whispers.

She jerks awake. “What?” she growls without bothering to open her eyes. 

“Liebe, you should take the bed.” He laughs. “A drunk like me should take the cot.”

She blinks a couple times, squinting at him in the dark. Propping herself up on her elbow she says, “Well look who decided to sober up.” Her voice is playful, but Alek feels his face grow warm in shame. 

“I don’t know what happened. I apologize. I was trying to make things right with your brother and now I fear I’ve somehow made it worse.”

She smirks and pats a patch of cot beside her. He hesitantly moves from his crouched position to sit beside her. She puts a hand to his cheek and his entire frame exhales in relief. “It wouldn’t be a proper Scottish homecoming if you hadn’t, and Jaspert’s going to deny it but I think he’s growing quite fond of you.”

Deryn slides off the cot and stands up, arching her spine. “But I will take your offer of the bed. That cot’s barking uncomfortable.”

Alek smiles up at her. “I shall bear it manfully.” He’s about to lay down when she thrusts her hand in front of his face.

“I didn’t say you weren’t invited.” Her voice is soft and determined, with none of the bravado that ‘Dylan’ usually throws in. This is all Deryn.

Alek grabs her hand and she pulls him up to standing. “I—” he begins.

“No one’s going to have your head for it. It’s just sleeping.” She rests her head on his chest and his arms wrap around her. He’s gotten taller since that fateful day on the spine of the Leviathan and her head fits comfortably in the part where his neck meets his chest. “And besides,” she mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, “Ma’s already planning a wedding.” Deryn can hear him gulp.

“In that case,” he says as his arm leaves her waist and begins fumbling around his waistcoat. Deryn tenses. Was her Ma hinting at something this morning? “Might I show you this?” Alek pulls out his pocket watch, a gift from Dr. Barlow, and opens it. In the dim light she can just barely make out a portrait of her in her middy uniform. Deryn laughs, but tears prick her eyes; she feels a bit silly.

“It’s a good thing you don’t play tennis,” she sniffles.

“A fortunate thing, indeed,” he replied. He pulls her close and she holds him tighter than usual. Feeling emboldened, he leans down to whisper in her ear, his breath ruffling the soft down of her hair. “The ring is back in London in Volger’s care seeing as I have a bad habit of flinging valuables over the sides of airships.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place sometime before the first four chapters.

Lord knows what they get up to in London.

They don’t get up to nearly enough, in Deryn’s opinion. While the Zoological Society was filled with many delightful closets and dark corners, it’s members were also too darn clever for the pair to make a habit of romantic trysts. And when not on missions, most of their time was spent with their bums planted in chairs reading and sorting paperwork in the little office off the side of Dr. Barlow’s. 

Today they are reviewing notes from the latest experiment in fabrication and rewriting them to include the recent annotations. Deryn’s hand is beginning to cramp and she keeps noticing the way Alek drags his hand through his usually neat hair. For all it’s promises of intrigue and subterfuge, the Society was still a scientific organization and they were the prized assistants of one of its most eminent boffins. That is to say, it could be pure dead tedious at times.

Still, sitting beside Alek everyday, stealing smiles and snickers at one another was more than she had ever dreamed of when she was deep in her crush aboard the Leviathan. But they were older now and all of London lay at their feet, if they could just manage to slip away from their chaperones and prying eyes.

For the moment they were alone, although the door was open and Dr. Lewis and his insufferable assistant Thomas could be heard just down the hall. Deryn nudges Alek’s foot. His eyes flick to hers and he asks, “What do you want?” His tone is playful. He nudges her foot back. 

“We worked through lunch and I’m starving,” she replies. “If I have to write another word I’ll eat this paper.”

“But then you’d just have to copy the notes down again.”

“Aye. That’s why I’m hoping you’d help remedy it.” Her boot travels farther up his leg and Alek holds her gaze with a studied nonchalance, but she can see his hand gripping his pen a little tighter.

“And what do you propose?” His voice is very level.

“Where do you think one could get a rootbeer float like the ones you were telling me about in America?” It was one of the things he described to her when she had been bound to her cabin by her injured knees, in between retelling The Perils of Pauline.

Alek laughs a little at her unexpected request. “Sadly I think they have remained in America.” Deryn rubs her leg up and down his again, then it comes to rest hooked under his calf. Alek’s ears turn scarlet.

“Pity,” she says.

“Indeed, but I can think of an alternative.” Alek takes a breath and looks as though he is screwing up the courage to say something. He blushes harder. “Volger won’t be at the flat tonight.” Before Deryn can muster up a response Alek explains, “He scavenged tickets to see an opera downtown. Something about ‘needing to find a little culture of Vienna in this wretched city.’ He won’t be back until late.”

Barking Spiders. A whole evening alone with Alek. She’s about ready to giggle like some village lass but she hides it in a grin. “Alright, I reckon I can do without the rootbeer if you’ve got something to eat.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“If you do not require any assistance, Aleksander, I shall be taking my leave,” says Volger as he adjusts his gloves and hat. 

“Yes, I’m quite alright, Count. Enjoy the Opera.” Alek looks up from the chair where he’s been reading the newspaper and hopes that his face doesn’t betray the jitters of excitement in his stomach.

The count opens the door of their shared flat and makes to leave, but pauses, “And where is Miss Sharp this evening?”

“She’s still at the zoo. Something about an ill bat needing to be fed every couple of hours,” Alek says casually, as if he hasn’t been rehearsing it since this afternoon. He’s gotten a little better at lying these days but the Count is sharp.

Volger arches an eyebrow; it’s more than likely he’ll confer with Dr. Barlow in the morning but by then there’s no risk of interruption. What’s at risk for interruption he’s not quite sure. He has a couple ideas but really all he wants is time alone with Deryn, where he can call her by her own name and she can call him “love.” 

“Very well,” says the Count, shaking Alek out his daze, and with a nod he leaves, shutting the door behind him. It seems like no more than ten minutes later he hears tapping at the window. He pulls back the curtain to reveal Deryn clinging to the windowsill, cheeks red and hair sticking every which way from the wind. He quickly unlatches the window and she scrambles inside.

“God’s wounds, Deryn!” he exclaims as she stands up, cursing like a sailor and adjusting her jacket.

“Barking spiders I think I’ve gone well and truly soft!” she cries. 

“I beg to differ,” replies Alek. “You climbed up to the third story.”

“I know I did and I’m glad I climbed up to the right flat; I dunno how I would have gone about explaining that to some poor neighbor.”

Alek smiles softly and leans in for a peck on the lips. Her lips are icy from the winter air but the kiss warms him to the core. “Well I’m glad you found the right address,” he says. “Can I take your coat?”

“Aye that’d be lovely.” She unbuttons her jacket and passes it to him and then gets to work loosening her tie. She flops down on the small sofa and stretches out her knee with a sigh of relief. 

Alek notices this. “Is it bothering you again?” he asks, meaning her knee. He hangs up her coat and moves to sit down beside her.

“No, It’s just overworked is all. I walk too fast, I reckon.” She swings her leg up to rest on Alek’s lap and turns so that her back is against the armrest. Almost automatically he takes her leg in his hands and begins to rub the inflamed muscles and tendons around her knee. 

“Or perhaps you’ve taken to climbing brick buildings,” he suggests.

“Aye, perhaps,” she smiles. “But it’s better than the landlady taking notes.”   
Feeling rather bold, he lets his hand on her knee wander farther up her leg and rests it on her thigh. She places her hand atop of his. A question. They’re no stranger to dizzying minutes spent in coat closets and empty offices.

“Well I reckon my knee’s feeling much better now,” she says softly. He’s got that daft look in his eyes and, blisters, it makes her pure dead moony. She urges herself to focus, she’s an airman after all! Two can play this game. “The thing is,” she begins, ”I’ve got this crick in my neck— from all the paperwork, you see!” 

The daft look turns devious. “Ah I see,” he says, sliding her leg off his lap to scoot closer to her. He leans in and finds the soft spot just below her ear and plants a soft kiss there. She sighs a very unsoliderly sigh. But she’s not a soldier anymore— she may be a zookeeper turned spy and a boy to most everyone in London, but when she’s with   
Alek she’s simply... Deryn. Alek’s lips travel south just above her shirt collar and she melts. 

That is until her stomach lets out a growl that could rival any tigeresque. 

Alek stops kissing her and laughs. Deryn resists the urge to punch him. “You did promise me a meal out of this, I recall,” and she can’t help but crack a smile too.


End file.
